From the Odd Couple Series: Lattimer and Giambi

The pressure is turning on Jason Giambi these days... And he's not quite sure where to turn. MLB has issued an ultimatum to the Giambino. He must talk to George Mitchell in the steroids investigation or else. And after weeks of speculation Giambi has finally caved and accepted his fate.

Yet, what happens now...does he talk, does he rat people out? To whom can he turn...whom can he trust?

Well, fortunately Giambi recently received a call from the voice of reason he needed to hear. Nope, not God, rather his good buddy Steve Lattimer (whom you may remember from The Program).

And here is how we'd like to think it all went down (if it really did go down).

PHONE RINGS.

Lattimer: Jason, it’s me.

Giambi: God is that you?

Lattimer: Snap out of it boy?

Giambi: Latty is that you? Where have you been?

Lattimer: Well, actually me and some Mexicans I picked up at the “Home Depot” just got back from Tijuana. We scored, big time ‘bro. I’m talking about the most synthetic un-detectable shit you could ever imagine.

Giambi: What the? What are you talking about? I am under fire. You know about the Federal investigation right? Where the hell have you been?

Lattimer: In Tijuana...I just told you, remember? No, hadn't heard about it. Seriously though 'bro that is the place for us. We could buy some cheap coastal property and just gig out.

Giambi: Huh?

Lattimer: Bro, have you ever seen the donkey show down there? Fuck, is 'bout all I can say.

Giambi: Dude, I've gotta go before George Mitchell...SOON!!!

Lattimer: You can get anything you want down there. Ampheties, Cocoa...you name it. Say, be honest with me bro' do you think I'm fucked if the condom broke?

Giambi: You gotta snap out of this and help me out.

Lattimer: Um, well we could go surfing off the coast of Bali and then spend a few months in Fiji until this all blows over.

Giambi: Not gonna work, I was given a deadline to talk to this George Mitchell guy about steroids in baseball. Me and my big mouth, they are going to eventually want me to name names.

Lattimer: Fuck ‘bro…this is deep. Let me think a second.

Lattimer: I got an idea. Ding mother-fucking dong!

Giambi: What does that mean?

Lattimer: Just thinking out loud. Did I tell you I made starting defense. STARTING DEFENSE.

(Lattimer then smashes the phone).

Giambi: Dude, did you just hang up on me? What the fuck?

Lattimer: No, actually I just smashed my phone…fortunately I have a back-up. Phew.

Giambi: I don’t think I could ever really sell anybody out…could you?

Lattimer: I don't know, its the battle, the going to war with the other guys, hanging together, having our own dorm, staying in hotels the night before the games, setting ourselves apart, being different than everybody else, having a chance to be somebody, to do something that people look up to you for, your strength, your courage, not everybody can play football... were the lucky ones.

Giambi: Dude, what the hell are you talking about? I don’t play football and neither do you. In fact, you never did. You’re just an actor.

Lattimer: Shit, you’re right bro' sometimes I just loose it. This cycle I’m on right now pushes my moods and alters my mind. I'm fucking manic.

Giambi: Can we get back to talking about me?

Lattimer: No doubt bud. Look, you can’t "x" anybody out. Just beat around the bush and say you’re sorry for something, but you’re not quite sure what. That’s what I told the team when I was suspended by coach for a few games.

Giambi: I tried that…years ago. Now, they want answers.

Lattimer: OK…if you wanted me to bit the shit out of this Mitchell guy you should’ve just said so. We’re brothers…remember?

Giambi: No, that’s not what I want.

Lattimer: Sure, sure you don’t…I can read between the lines bro'.

Giambi: This is pointless, I'm hanging the phone up.

Lattimer: I got you 'bro...this Mitchell dude has a new problem.

Want more Lattimer?